


this year (could be our year)

by remy (iamremy)



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies), Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Ethan doing stupid shit, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sexual Content, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 21:23:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6167317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamremy/pseuds/remy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ethan Hunt's first year of high school. God help him. And more importantly, God help whoever had the misfortune of being his friend and having to deal with his crap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this year (could be our year)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marriedtojbiebs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marriedtojbiebs/gifts).



> The idea of this stemmed from Sanjana, Cody and I discussing Ethan/Will high school AUs for fun. What we discussed was nowhere nearly as lengthy, or as angsty, as what I ended up writing, but then I guess some stories just write themselves. This happens to be one of them.
> 
> I wrote it all in one night and a few hours of the next day, so any errors and inconsistencies are all my fault. I hope you people enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.
> 
> And oh yes, this fic is dedicated to Cody, for her birthday. Sorry I'm late!  
> It also belongs to Sanjana as much as it belongs to Cody and to me, because without these two brilliant, beautiful, amazing girls, I wouldn't have even half of the ideas that I do, and absolutely none of the inspiration and motivation. I love you guys <333
> 
> WARNINGS: there is some mention of suicide.

There was something incredibly thrilling about doing something stupid and not caring about the consequences. Ethan figured that out at age 8, when he decided to go down the stairs on his brand new skateboard just to see what would happen. Three broken bones, one ruined skateboard, five smashed photo frames and a _lot_ of yelling from both his mother and uncle later, Ethan decided it was still the most fun thing he’d ever done.

So he kept looking for stupid shit to do. Sometimes that involved tripping the Jacksons’ burglar alarm and then running as fast as he could, just to see how far he could get in how much time. Sometimes he’d take Uncle Don’s bike out for a spin, even though, at twelve, he was much too short for his feet to touch the ground when he was on the bike, and much too young to even be on it in the first place. Sometimes he’d get caught, and get screamed at, and grounded. Sometimes, though, he’d get away with it, and no one would ever know, and it would be just another thing that he hid inside himself, in his chest where his heart lived.

* * *

On the first day of high school, Ethan mapped out the entire building in his mind, every single classroom and supply closet and bathroom that he could remember. He classified the rooms into two categories – Can Hide Here and Can’t Hide Here. But most importantly, he remembered where all the emergency exits were, as well as other less conventional routes of escape.

He made no friends that day, but it didn’t bother him. He didn’t need friends – he just needed to be able to keep the adrenalin rushes coming. Without those, he felt like there was something missing from inside him, and he didn’t know who he was without that missing thing. And, like Mama had said just before he’d left for school, “Don’t ever forget who you are, son. I know it can seem easy, sometimes, especially when you’re growing up and there’s so many things you want to do. Some of those things may not be right. It’s up to you, what you do about them. But if you forget who you are, you’ll be lost. You won’t know what to do.”

He was sure she didn’t mean it the way he took it, but hell, if it fit…

* * *

In the second week of high school, Ethan scaled the side of the building, and got up on the roof just to prove to himself that he could. Then, on a whim, he stood on the edge – right on the very edge – and he whooped. Loudly.

He got himself suspended for a week, and grounded for a month, but the rush stayed with him for longer than that.

* * *

A dark-skinned boy called Luther found Ethan in the second-floor boys’ bathroom in the sixth week of high school, where Ethan was attempting to blow up one of the urinals with a book of matches and some firecrackers. The problem was that the match just refused to be lit.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Luther asked Ethan. He didn’t sound outraged or anything, just genuinely interested.

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” retorted Ethan.

“You’re gonna do some serious damage,” commented Luther, watching with fascination as Ethan attempted – unsuccessfully – to light the match.

“What’s it to you?”

Luther shrugged. “Watch me, see if I give a damn. But you’re going to get your ass suspended again, and then your mama’s gonna be called to the principal’s office. You wanna deal with that shit, go on ahead.”

“That’s only going to happen if I get caught,” Ethan pointed out, pausing in his endeavors.

“Of course you’ll get caught,” said Luther dismissively, “that’s a given, because you’re an idiot, and also literally the only one who’d do something like this. They wouldn’t even think to suspect anyone else.” There’s a glint in Luther’s eyes.

“What’re you saying?” asked Ethan, narrowing his eyes at him suspiciously.

Luther said, quite conversationally, “You know, there’s a trick to lighting matches that otherwise won’t be lit. I could teach it to you sometime.”

“Now’s a good time as any,” Ethan replied, watching Luther closely.

“Nah, not now,” refused Luther. “Now, why don’t you go on and give me those matches, and go off to class? You’re probably late already.”

Ethan didn’t budge. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to toss the matches, and save your foolish ass,” Luther replied. “Because this shit?” He gestured towards the firecrackers in Ethan’s other hand. “Not fuckin worth it. What are you trying to prove, you’re a bad boy or some shit? You ain’t scared of nothing? Well, point taken. You’re a fearless motherfucker, climbing roofs and blowing up urinals. Wow, what a badass.” Luther completed his little monologue with an eyeroll.

Put that way, it did sound incredibly stupid, and Ethan found himself at a loss for words. “That isn’t what I—look, you don’t—” He sighed in frustration, not knowing what to say. “What does it matter to you anyway?” he asked in the end, glaring at Luther.

Luther shrugged. “You’re making an ass of yourself, and it’s pitiful, and it’s giving me a lot of secondhand embarrassment. So quit it.”

“Why should I do anything you say?” demanded Ethan. “We’re not _friends_.”

“No,” allowed Luther. “Not yet, we’re not. But I’ll tell you what – you wanna keep doing this shit, fine, go on ahead. But don’t do it where you’ll hurt others, like in a fuckin _school_. I told you I knew a trick to lighting matches. Well, I’ll tell it to you – if you agree to only pull your bullshit when and where I tell you it’s safe. Agreed?”

Ethan considered him. “What’s in it for you?” he asked, suspiciously.

“I don’t die in a fucked up urinal explosion,” Luther pointed out.

“That can’t be the only thing,” Ethan said.

Luther laughed, much to Ethan’s surprise. “You’re smart, I’ll give you that. Okay, look, how about this – you stop this shit right now, but later on I introduce you to some kids I know, a bunch of actual badasses. You get your kicks, and I get some peace of mind while knowing that you idiots will be too busy trying to outdo each other to actually do anything serious. Deal?”

Ethan thought it over, and then said, “Deal.”

Luther grinned at him, and almost without thinking about it, he grinned back.

* * *

Luther introduced him to his friends, as promised – an Asian girl called Zhen, her boyfriend Declan, and another girl named Jane whom Ethan was instantly a little wary of. The three of them looked like something out of the movies – they looked like social outcasts, dressed like social outcasts and sometimes even acted like social outcasts, all quiet and sullen and antisocial, but they weren’t really. They were, surprisingly, quite popular – every guy in the grade wanted to go out with Jane, Zhen was friends with just about every single person in the place, and Declan was a practical joker with skills that made Ethan go green with envy, and made everyone want to be his friend.

That was in school, though – after school they all went to an abandoned train station on the outskirts of town to hang out. Jane would smoke, and even though Ethan hated cigarettes and immediately thought “cancer” when he saw them, he had to admit she could make it look cool. She was like something out of an advertisement, leaning back against the hood of Zhen’s Mustang and taking a long drag, her gaze smoldering as she stared at everything and nothing. When she exhaled, her lips shaping themselves around the smoke, she looked like she was invincible. Normally Ethan would have kissed the hell out of a girl like that, but she looked so unattainable, so out of his league, that he didn’t even want to try. She seemed too unreal, too flawless, and also like she would kick his ass if he lay a hand on her.

Zhen, too, was something of a mystery – while Jane smoked, she sat on the hood next to her, either texting someone or the other or sketching something in a little notebook she always had in her back pocket. Declan was always nearby, playing cards with Luther as they shared a bottle of beer between them, obtained with a fake ID that Declan’s brother Logan had got him for his sixteenth. Ethan was a little envious of the fact that they looked old enough to walk into a store and not immediately be questioned for buying alcohol, whereas he looked like he’d barely crossed puberty.

Zhen laughed when he voiced that. “Oh, but think about it,” she said, her eyes crinkling attractively at the corners. “Even when you’re forty, you’re going to look like you’re twenty-five, and that’s not so bad, is it?”

After Jane was done with her smoke, and Zhen had snapped her notebook shut, and Declan had collected his winnings from a disgruntled Luther, they would all pile back into Zhen’s ‘Stang and hit the streets, looking for something to do. The first time Ethan met them, they’d found a street race and Zhen had immediately taken the challenge. Ethan volunteered to be her right seater, and while they hadn’t won, coming in third, it had still been one of the biggest rushes of Ethan’s life, and he felt grateful to Luther for showing him this.

* * *

Sometimes they played Truth or Dare with an empty beer bottle, sitting cross-legged in a circle on a mat spread on the dusty floor of the train station. It was different from other juvenile games of the same variety that Ethan had played – for instance, he’d never been asked to hang upside down from the rafters of the station for a full minute, ever before. Still, when Declan presented him with the challenge he didn’t turn it down, and he didn’t complain about the splinters he kept pulling out of his hands and legs for hours afterwards.

Once Zhen dared him to kiss Jane, and he summoned all of his courage, and he went for it. She tasted like smoke and strawberries, and her hair smelled of honey, and that was so opposite of what he’d been expecting that he felt a bit lost. The kiss wasn’t too bad – she was phenomenal at it – but it wasn’t what he’d thought it would feel like and afterwards he thought, _no wonder I’d never felt attracted to her_ , because while she was beautiful, she was too much for him, she was too hard to pin down.

She laughed when they were done. “Not bad, Hunt,” she said, and she winked one kohl-lined eye, and Ethan suddenly found that she didn’t seem so intimidating now. “You’re all right yourself, Carter,” he told her, and she laughed again. Strangely enough, that awkward kiss was what broke the ice between them, and Ethan found that she was one of the best friends he’d ever had.

* * *

In the third month of high school, Declan dared Ethan to ride a bike or a scooter, whichever he could get his hands on, down the hallways between classes. Luther protested, and Zhen laughed, and Jane just exhaled smoke and continued looking perfect and better than everyone else.

Ethan accepted the dare, and his insides soared, and his heart beat loud and fast at the idea of doing it and getting caught, and not caring what the consequences were.

So he skipped first period English and he found himself a bike, and he stole it, and he rode it pell-mell down the hallways, delighting in the feeling, whooping and hollering at the peak of his lungs as students and teachers alike leaped aside to avoid being mowed down. He could hear people telling him to _stop this instant_ , and _get off that bike right now!_ and also _have you lost your mind, young man_ but he didn’t care; in this instant, he was untouchable to them.

Right until a kid wandered into his path, clearly not seeing him, and Ethan tried to swerve but failed, and they both went down in a tangle of limbs, the kid crying out, the bike careening off into a nearby row of lockers. Ethan felt a sharp pain in his side, and a warm wetness, and he thought, _oh shit, I’m bleeding_.

Except it wasn’t him – the kid he’d crashed into was lying flat under him, trying to shove him off himself, and he was bleeding from a gash to the forehead. Ethan blinked, and thought again, _shit_ , because that was a lot of blood, and it was soaking up the kid’s hair incredibly fast, darkening it to a sickly maroon.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” Ethan began, getting off the kid and rolling to the side, ignoring the stabbing pain in his side. The kid glared at him, blue eyes narrowed in anger, and pressed his hand to his temple, letting out an angry sound as it came away red. His books and notes were scattered nearby, a mess of paper and words, but it seemed to be the least of his worries.

“What is _wrong_ with you?” he snapped at Ethan, taking off his outer plaid shirt and balling it up, pressing it to his head. “Are you actually _insane_ , or what?”

“I’m sorry,” repeated Ethan, feeling horrible, not knowing what to say, and shit, Luther was right, he’d hurt someone now, and he never should have done this, he should have told Declan to just shut the hell up. “Look, let me help you—” He reached out to help the kid apply pressure, but the boy shrank away, his glare intensifying.

“Don’t you fucking touch me,” he snarled. “You’ve done enough damage, thanks a lot.”

Ethan opened his mouth to say something – what, he wasn’t sure – but at that moment Mr. Stine from Math appeared, placed his hand on Ethan’s shoulder, and said in a firm voice, “Come with me, Mr. Hunt.”

 _I’m screwed,_ thought Ethan, and then, _shit, fuck, I hurt somebody, I hurt that poor kid_.

He couldn’t help but look back at him even as Mr. Stine led him away. The kid was still on the floor, hand holding his shirt to his head, sitting slumped over the mess that used to be his notes. He looked utterly small and alone, and Ethan’s heart jumped in his chest. He didn’t feel invincible, and he sure as hell didn’t feel like he was on top of the world, like he used to. He just felt like crap.

* * *

Ethan ended up suspended for two weeks, effective the next Monday, and grounded for two months. His mother also cut off his allowance, and even Uncle Don looked disappointed, Uncle Don who usually let everything go pretty soon.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to prove,” he said to Ethan after collecting him from the principal’s office. “And I don’t know why you’re doing all of this. But you hurt someone today, pretty bad. You’re responsible for that. And I hope to hell that you feel that guilt, son, because you need to understand – whatever you do, the consequences, they’re on you. They’re your burden to bear, and sometimes, that burden is going to be a bit heavier than suspension and being grounded.”

Sometimes, that burden looked like a skinny kid with a lacerated forehead, who sat on the ground and didn’t make a single move to pick up his things.

* * *

“Looks like you fucked up, Hunt,” Declan said the next morning, amusement layered under his accent.

“Fuck you, Gormley,” Ethan said tiredly, giving him a half-hearted shove before heading towards his locker and first period English. He felt tired, and sleepy as hell – he’d spent the entire night tossing and turning, unable to get that kid’s cry of pain or his face out of his mind.

“You wish!” Declan called after him, before heading towards his own class, and Ethan was glad he was gone. He knew he’d feel less angry with Declan soon enough, but for now he wanted to just be away from him, and from the rest of them, the other three who’d let Declan dare him.

Most of all, thought, he was angry with himself for listening to Declan and doing it.

He shared first period English with Jane, who normally sat in the middle rows with a short, scrawny, spectacled kid named Benji, who, if Ethan recalled correctly, had moved from England and hadn’t managed to quite fit in just yet. He was quiet, and shy, and spent most of his time with – Ethan’s heart sank as he remembered – the kid he’d crashed into yesterday. For a moment he considered going over to Benji and asking about Will, but then Jane dumped her things on the table next to him and sat down.

“So you screwed up,” she said, firm but not unkind. “It happens. Get over it, Ethan.”

“I hurt someone,” Ethan pointed out. “I’m lucky it wasn’t much worse than a cut on the forehead, Jane, or I’d be so much more screwed than I am now.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t about you,” Jane told him, serenely tucking a strand of silky black hair behind her ear. “You hurt him, and you got what you deserved. No point in stewing in self pity about it, so move on. Apologize to him if it’ll make you feel better, but stop pouting, you look ridiculous.”

“I’m not pouting—” Ethan began, and then stopped. He sighed. “Fine. I’ll apologize. I just don’t know his name, is the issue.”

“His name’s Will,” Jane told him. “I sit with his friend Benji in English, usually. You probably know him, he’s the British kid. He’s not bad, actually. Though he _is_ very pissed at you about what went down yesterday.”

Right on cue, Benji turned his head to look for Jane, found her sitting with Ethan, glared, and turned back to face the front.

“Okay. Will.” Ethan said. “Do I share any class with him?”

“How should I know?” said Jane, readjusting one of the clips holding her hair back. “Find out. It’s _your_ problem, you deal with it. I suggest you start with Benji, though, before he finds a way to kill people with just a look.”

Ethan sighed again. “Okay, then.” He got up and walked over to where Benji was seated, and said, “Hey. Can I sit?”

Benji looked up, and glared some more. “You’re Ethan Hunt.”

“That’s me.” Ethan tried to smile pleasantly, but it came out as a tired grimace instead, his face feeling stretched and unpliant.

“You ran over Will,” accused Benji. “You hurt him quite badly, you know.”

“I know,” Ethan said, wincing at the reminder. “Look, I need to talk to you about that – can I sit down?”

Benji shrugged, still glaring. Ethan took it as permission of sorts and sat down, trying not to lose his nerve at the hostile looks being thrown his way.

“Okay, look,” Ethan said, trying to sound as sincere as possible while also attempting not to yawn. “I didn’t mean to, okay? I didn’t see him, and he was just _there_ , and if I could have stopped it I would have.”

“What do you want?” asked Benji, raising an eyebrow.

“I want to apologize to him,” Ethan told Benji, “but I don’t know if I share any classes with him, and I don’t know where he lives. I was hoping you could help me out.”

“Why do you want to apologize?”

“Well – because I feel like shit about it,” Ethan replied. “I haven’t been able to sleep, okay, and believe it or not I do feel awful. Are you going to help me or not?”

Benji regarded him silently, before writing something down on a piece of paper and sliding it over to Ethan. “That’s his phone number and address. He didn’t come to school today, wasn’t feeling well he said, so go over today or wait for tomorrow, up to you. And if he forgives you, I will too.”

“Okay, thanks,” Ethan said, pocketing the paper just as the teacher came in. “I owe you, Benji.”

Benji looked a little wary, but eventually he nodded, before turning away and focusing his attention on his notebook. Ethan didn’t change seats, and instead of doodling in his notebook he actually made notes for once.

* * *

He called his mother when school was over, and asked her if he could go over to Will’s place before coming home. She seemed relieved when he said it was to apologize, like she was pleased to know her son had a soul after all, and then told him that if he wasn’t home within an hour, or if he went anywhere else, she’d extend his punishment another month. He promised to come right home afterwards, and on time, and she hung up with somewhat more warmth than she’d picked up the phone with.

Will lived fifteen minutes away from school, and Ethan convinced Zhen to drop him off there on her way to the old train station. Declan seemed somewhat contrite and was nicer to Ethan than usual, from which Ethan assumed he’d been given a good talking to by Zhen. Luther wasn’t really speaking with Ethan, beyond some snide remarks and around half a dozen repetitions of “I fucking told you so”. Jane was her usual unaffected self.

He tried not to feel abandoned as the Mustang sped away after leaving him in the driveway of Will’s home, next to a quaint old blue mailbox marked _Brandt_. Summoning all of his courage – why, oh God _why_ , was this harder than doing all of the dumb crap he did – Ethan walked up to the front door, inhaled deeply, and rang the doorbell.

He was answered a few moments later by a tall, thin, rather harried looking woman, with brown eyes and the same blue eyes as Will. “Hello, are you a friend of Will’s?” she asked, smiling pleasantly at him, though Ethan could see the exhaustion in her eyes.

“Uh, my name is Ethan Hunt,” he told her, and immediately wished he hadn’t started off with that when her expression closed off and her mouth pressed into a thin line. “Look, I’m not here to – to do whatever it is you think I’ll do,” he said hurriedly, trying to salvage the situation. “It’s just that I feel awful about yesterday and I wanted to apologize to Will. And, uh.” He held up his backpack. “I also brought notes? Since he missed class today.”

Mrs. Brandt stared at him, blue eyes narrowed, as if trying to figure him out. Finally, she nodded and stood aside, making space for him to enter. “Will’s up in his room,” she told him. “He’s in bed, though, and you’ll have to be very quiet. You gave him a concussion, you know, and he’s got a massive headache.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ethan said, shifting from one foot to the other, feeling even worse than he had before. “I swear to you, Mrs. Brandt, I didn’t mean to, it was an accident—”

“I know,” she said, not unkindly. “Why else would you be here? Just be careful in the future, all right?”

He nodded, not knowing what to say. In the end, he just went with “Okay,” and then, “Thank you.”

She nodded too. “Yeah. You can go see Will, okay? His room’s the second door on the right.”

“Thank you,” he said again, and made his way towards the stairs, feeling Mrs. Brandt’s gaze on his back all the way.

He knocked on Will’s door when he came to it, his heart in his throat. He had no idea how Will would take it, and he didn’t know what he would do if Will refused to accept his apology. Uncle Don’s words about guilt kept circulating inside his head, refusing to leave, and with each repetition Ethan felt worse and worse about what he’d done.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard a tired “Come in!” Steeling himself one more time, he pushed open the door, his heart hammering away inside him.

Will’s room was in almost complete darkness, the lights switched off and the curtains drawn. Ethan could only faintly make out the shape of the furniture, and it took him a moment to locate Will’s bed, and Will outlined against the white sheets.

“Hey, Benji,” Will said, sounding so utterly tired, and Ethan was tempted to turn and leave, and not come back. But that was the cowardly thing to do, and, no matter what else Ethan was, a coward he wasn’t.

“It’s not Benji,” he said, voice low, mindful of what Will’s mother had said. “It’s, um, Ethan Hunt. I knocked you down, yesterday?”

“Oh.” Will’s tone changed abruptly. “What do you want?”

“I came to say sorry,” Ethan told him. “Can I come in?”

There was a moment’s silence, and then Will said, “Okay.”

Ethan ventured further into the room, his eyes adjusting to the dark. It was nice and spacious, and almost unnaturally tidy, so unlike Ethan’s own room. He sat down in Will’s desk chair, which was close enough to his bed for them to talk comfortably, and began, “I just wanted to say sorry. For yesterday. It was an accident, you know that, right? And I’ve been feeling like shit about it ever since. I shouldn’t have done that, it was insane.”

Will snorted. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

“So, uh, yeah,” Ethan said, trying not to feel discouraged. “And I understand if you’re angry at me, I really do. I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong,” Will replied. “Of course I was angry, man, I’ve got a concussion and I missed school. But I mean, shit, you said it was an accident, right? So what the hell – you’re forgiven. As long as you swear not to run me down again in the future.”

“I – you’re serious?” Ethan couldn’t help the surprise coloring his voice. “You’re not mad at me?”

“Not anymore,” Will told him. “No point to it, really. So, you know, you’re forgiven, and you can go home now.”

“Thanks,” Ethan said, feeling pleasantly surprised even now. “That’s really nice of you. Thank you. And again, I’m sorry.”

Will just waved a tired hand at him. “Yeah, okay.”

“I got you notes, by the way,” Ethan told him, gesturing towards his backpack. “Since you missed school today. Figured I owe you at least that much.”

This time when Will spoke, he sounded astonished. “What—really?”

“Yeah,” Ethan said, fidgeting a little, not knowing what it was about Will that made him so nervous even after he’d been forgiven. “I hope my writing’s not too hard to understand.”

Will snorted again. “If I can read Benji’s scrawl I can read anything. Thanks, man, seriously, this is really cool of you.”

“It’s nothing, it’s the least I can do,” Ethan said, feeling relieved.

“Believe me, it’s a lot,” Will told him. “Usually when people cause me serious injury, they don’t bother with an apology, let alone notes and shit. So this is pretty huge for me, okay. Thanks, seriously. Consider everything forgiven.”

Ethan laughed, unable to help it. “Thought it already was.”

“You know what I mean,” Will said, and then did something strange – he smiled. “You’re not too bad, for a maniac.”

“Good to know,” Ethan said with a smile in return, and then he stood. “I’ll leave you to rest now, okay? You, uh, you take care.”

“Yeah, see you around,” Will said with a yawn, as if Ethan’s words had reminded him of how tired he was. “Later, I guess.”

“Bye,” said Ethan, and took care to close the door noiselessly as he exited, feeling a lot lighter than he had yesterday.

* * *

Jane came to visit him, two days into his suspension. She brought notes, and news. “I got asked out,” she announced.

“So what else is new?” asked Ethan, turning in his desk chair to face her as she made herself comfortable on a beanbag.

“It’s Trevor Hanaway,” she told him, and there was a blush on her cheeks, and a light to her eyes that he hadn’t seen before. “I said yes,” she informed him, and when he smiled at her she laughed, and she looked happier than he’d ever seen her, and he thought, _Good for her, and for Hanaway_ ,

* * *

Zhen and Declan visited too, and they kept him company, playing video games and bringing pizza and movies sometimes. The highlight, though, was when Luther came with them, four days into his suspension. “I’ve decided to forgive your dumb ass,” he declared magnanimously. “Especially since Benji told me you said sorry to Will.”

“You know Benji?” Ethan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“’Course I know Benji, he’s my partner in Chem lab,” Luther answered dismissively. “Anyway – you got something to eat? I’m starving.”

* * *

It felt like nothing had changed, when he returned to school two weeks later, with the notable exception of one thing – the fact that girls seemed extremely interested in him now. Girls he’d never spoken to before came up to him and said hi, and they giggled and played with their hair, and clamored to sit next to him in class. It was nice, this attention, and he found himself enjoying it, even though sometimes it got too much. Jane and Zhen were amused; Luther was not.

He saw Will and Benji every now and then, and he smiled and said hi, and they nodded and said hi back, but that was it. Now that he knew who Will was, he discovered that they had quite a few classes together, which made interaction easier. Still, they didn’t get beyond small talk, and they never sat next to each other. Will in school was just as quiet as Benji, almost sullen, definitely withdrawn, and Ethan often found himself at a loss for words, something that didn’t happen a lot to him.

He met Trevor, Jane’s boyfriend, and he decided he liked him – it was hard not to. Trevor was the kind of person who was instantly likable, always smiling, very easy to get along with – the kind of guy you felt like you’d known forever even if you’d just met him. And, most importantly of all, he made Jane happy, made her smile and laugh, and Ethan noticed that she was smoking less than she used to, and that, perhaps, was the thing that sold him on Trevor more than anything else.

In the end of November, a girl that Ethan had noticed in the hallways came up to him, smiled, and said, “Hey, do you want to hang out this Saturday? If you’re free, that is.”

And Ethan said, “Yeah, I’m free, but I don’t think I know you?”

“Julia,” she told him, and pressed a slip of paper in his hand. “Call me,” she said, and smiled at him before going off to class.

Ethan looked down at the paper in his hand, and thought, _what the hell, she’s cute_ , and wondered what would be the best thing to say that would convince his mother to allow him out on Saturday.

* * *

Just before school closed for the Christmas holidays, Mr. Morrison the Chemistry teacher summoned Ethan into his classroom, after school was out. “Ethan, son, I need to talk to you about your Chemistry grade.”

“Sure, Mr. Morrison,” said Ethan politely, not sitting down. “Is it about the test? Because I know I didn’t do my best on it—”

“It’s not just the test, Ethan,” Mr. Morrison told him, sighing. “It’s the entire class. Truth is, son, if you don’t get your grades up, you’re going to be in real danger of failing.”

Ethan felt the world shift under his feet. “I – what? No, that can’t be possible, sir, there must have been a mistake.”

“There’s no mistake, son, I’m sorry,” Mr. Morrison said. “But that’s what it is. You’re averaging a D right now, C-minus if you’re lucky. You keep this up, and it’ll be down to an F real soon.”

Feeling the beginnings of a headache, Ethan sighed and said, “What can I do, sir? How do I fix it?”

“Study harder, for one,” Mr. Morrison told him. “This last test – I was disappointed, son, I’m not going to lie to you. I _know_ you can do so much better. And you know it too. Don’t waste yourself on things that won’t help you. Spend that time doing something productive, and I promise you, it will not go to waste.”

“Okay,” Ethan said, not really feeling the words. “Okay, Mr. Morrison. I promise.”

The teacher didn’t look convinced. “I’ll believe it when I see it, son. You’re free to go now. Enjoy your holiday.”

Ethan nodded, tried to smile, and left, resisting the urge to throw up. He’d never done that badly in any class before, and so this feeling of utter failure was entirely new to him. He hated it.

* * *

Luther was off visiting his aunt for the winter, and Zhen and Declan had both found jobs at local stores to make some extra money. Jane was too busy spending time with Hanaway, and Ethan felt like he should be resentful, but he couldn’t bring himself to be. Jane was _happy_ , and she deserved it, and he was not going to be the one to begrudge her that, especially since Trevor was part of the gang now, was theirs just as much as he was Jane’s.

The problem with all of his friends being busy was that he had nothing to do. He’d tried getting a job as well but had been unable to do it, finding that he didn’t really respond well to people barking orders at him. In any case, he didn’t really need any extra money – there was still insurance money from his dad’s death saved up for his college fund, plus he knew Mama and Uncle Don added to it whenever they could. He tried to listen to Mr. Morrison and focus on studying, but the issue with that was that it just couldn’t hold his attention, and once again he found himself yearning to go out, to do something that would bring back the rush, that would get the adrenalin singing through his veins again.

So he went out, wrapped in layers of warm clothes to protect himself from the cold, and he found himself going in the direction of the skate park. He never did learn how to skateboard, not after the incident when he’d been a kid, but he figured now was a good time to learn as any.

There weren’t many people in the park today – it was unusually cold, and most people were bundled up warmly inside their homes. It was just Ethan, a couple of kids from the middle school, and a bunch of high school seniors smoking in a corner, paying no mind to the middle schoolers.

Ethan considered going over to them and asking if he could borrow a skateboard for a while, but then something else caught his eye – Will, sitting on a bench, reading a book and looking like he couldn’t care less what was going on in the rest of the world. Ethan looked around for Benji, and when he didn’t find him, he decided to go see if Will wanted some company.

“Hey,” he said, sitting down next to Will on the bench. “What’s up?”

Will looked up and nodded. “Hey,” he said. “Nothing, just reading.” He held up his book, which according to the cover was _The Running Man_ by Stephen King. “You?”

Ethan shrugged. “Had nothing to do at home, figured I’d come here, see if there was anything that wasn’t as boring as doing nothing at all.”

Will grinned. “I hope it doesn’t involve knocking down innocent boys.”

And Ethan laughed, surprising even himself. “No, it doesn’t,” he said. “Truth is, I have absolutely no idea what to do. All my friends are busy, and my girlfriend is making excuses.”

Will frowned a little. “Why?” There was a strange expression on his face, but it was gone before Ethan could identify what it was.

He shrugged again. “No idea. Guess I’ll call her again tonight. What about you? No girlfriend, boyfriend, anything?”

Will shook his head. “Nah. In case you haven’t noticed, people aren’t exactly lining up to go out with me.”

Ethan didn’t know what to say to that, so he just watched Will instead, and it felt like this was the first time he was looking at him, _really_ looking at him. He noticed how the snow all around them brought out the blue of Will’s eyes, and his long eyelashes, and how his hair looked soft, peeking out from under his beanie. He took in Will’s sunkissed skin, pink from the cold, and the shape of his mouth, and he wondered, _why, though? Why aren’t people lining up to go out with you? Look at you, you’re gorgeous_.

But he didn’t say any of it out loud, instead opting to nudge Will lightly with his shoulder. “So tell me about your book. What’s it about? It looks interesting, you were practically buried in it.”

Something flickered across Will’s face once again, but like the last time it was too quick for Ethan to catch it. “Oh, you wanna know about the book?” he said, like nothing was off, even though Ethan could _feel_ that somehow, something had changed between them in the course of this short, mundane conversation they were having.

But he couldn’t pinpoint it, so he just filed it away for later, and turned his attention to Will telling him about the book.

* * *

He spent Christmas with his family, choosing to stay inside rather than go out, for a change. He’d gotten presents for his friends but none of them had been able to see him, and so he saved them for later. He’d even bought something for Benji – a new video game.

And he’d gotten one of the most recent King books for Will, even though he had no idea why he was even buying presents for a guy that could at best be described as an acquaintance. All he knew was that there was something about Will, something he couldn’t put his finger on, that made him want to be closer to him, to know more about him. But he couldn’t actually do any of that without feeling a horrible sort of guilt, like he was somehow betraying Julia, even though he was pretty sure he wasn’t harboring any sort of feelings for Will that went beyond enjoying his company. In any case, he was pretty sure crushes didn’t feel like this – for instance, he didn’t get flustered or anything at the thought of Will, he didn’t stammer while talking to him, and he didn’t feel like he should be kissing Will all the time.

No – when he thought of Will, he thought of quiet, companionable silences, and talking about books, and sitting in the snow and just talking, and blue, blue eyes.

* * *

Julia broke up with him, the first week back from the holidays. “I’m really sorry,” she said, “but I just don’t feel like I like you that way, you know? I mean, you’re really sweet, and you’re a great guy, but I just don’t think it was really working.”

He nodded, numb, and said, “Yeah, sure,” like it wasn’t an entirely dumb thing to say.

“I really hope we can be friends,” she said, smiling brightly, albeit somewhat nervously.

“Yeah, sure,” he said again, and berated himself mentally for sounding like a very stupid stuck record. “You, uh, you take care,” he said, just for something else to say, and almost slammed his head in a wall at the realization of how stupid he sounded.

“Yeah,” she said, nodding, and she gave him one last smile before walking away and leaving him stranded in the hallway.

* * *

Zhen and Declan were outraged on his behalf, Luther was amused, the asshole, and Jane was just Jane. “Get over it,” she told him, raising a perfect eyebrow. “You’ll find someone else.”

“Someone better, I should hope,” Declan added heatedly. “What an utterly dick move.”

“I think it was hilarious,” said Luther, chuckling. “And she wants to be friends. Amazing.”

“I really don’t see what’s so funny,” Ethan said, glaring half-heartedly. “Also, Zhen, Declan, lay off her. It isn’t her fault.”

“Isn’t her fault—” repeated Zhen incredulously, and then stopped herself, looking like she was making a physical effort. “And she seemed so nice, too.”

“She _is_ nice,” Ethan told her, not knowing why he felt like defending Julia. Just that he had to. “She’s really nice. But she’s right too, you know, it wasn’t working. I don’t think I want nice, and I don’t think she wants someone like me, either.”

Zhen and Declan had nothing to say to that, but Luther and Jane looked like they were thinking a lot about that one.

* * *

Ethan realized what he wanted one warm March afternoon, and it sure as hell wasn’t Julia, and it wasn’t someone else either who would be nice and sweet.

He was just lazing about in bed when the realization happened – Mama and Uncle Don were out grocery shopping, and he was home, enjoying his Saturday afternoon by himself, not having any immediately pressing worries about homework. He’d managed to bring his Chemistry grade up to a B-minus, and Mr. Morrison was quite pleased with him, but was also hinting that he was expecting an A by the end of the school year. Ethan wasn’t sure how he was going to manage that, but he was never one to back down from a challenge, no matter what kind.

Inadvertently his thoughts wandered to afternoons spent with Will, whom he’d begun inviting over to help him with Chemistry. Will, he’d found out, was an utter nerd about anything that he could apply a formula to, and that made him a force to be reckoned with when it came to Math and Chemistry. He also had a way of explaining things that could make even rocket science seem simple, and that, more than anything, had helped Ethan understand what had previously been gibberish to him with some subscript numbers thrown in.

But the most interesting thing about Will was how it felt like he could read Ethan with just one look. Many times Ethan had looked up from work to find Will watching him, blue gaze analytical as he observed Ethan working. He often knew Ethan’s mistakes even before Ethan made them, and therefore he fixed them before Ethan even had to ask for help, which Ethan appreciated. Having always been something of a lone wolf, asking for help had never come easily to him, and he liked that with Will, he didn’t have to, he just got it before he even knew he needed it.

Without really thinking about it, Ethan’s hand moved from slung across his stomach, to unbuttoning his jeans, pushing them down to his knees. His legs fell open as he slipped his hand underneath his briefs, finding his dick already half-hard. Keeping his ears tuned to the smallest sound, just in case Mama and Uncle Don came back, Ethan wrapped his hand around himself, moving up and down in slow, measured strokes, breathing deeply and trying to suppress his moans into his other arm.

His dick was completely hard now, straining against his briefs, so he took his hand off himself to push them down as well, before going back to touching himself, continuing in the same rhythm as before. Occasionally he brushed the head with his thumb, gritting his teeth against his own sounds of pleasure, eyes closed tight as he tried to think of something, anything that would get him off.

Before he could stop himself his thoughts wandered back to Will, except this time they had nothing to do with Chemistry – this time he was picturing blue eyes, and Will’s lips, and the curve of his ass, and he hadn’t even been aware that he’d noticed that about him, that he’d noticed how his muscles shifted under his skin when he moved, or the firm, strong lines of his shoulders and back. He wondered what it would be like to kiss Will, to touch him, to feel him under his body, his skin soft to the touch. And all of a sudden he wanted nothing more than to find Will, to hold him close and kiss him, find out how he tasted and what it felt like to know him in that manner. There was just something about him that had drawn Ethan in, and now it felt like Ethan was stuck deep in quicksand and Will was the only one who could save him.

He felt himself nearing climax, his back arching off the bed with every stroke now, his nerve endings feeling like they were on white hot fire. Ethan wasn’t a virgin by any stretch of the imagination, nor was he inexperienced, thanks to Julia, who had known how to pass the time quickly in the dreary winter days; but when he imagined Will, it wasn’t soft and pliant like Julia had been. He imagined Will would give as good as he got, wouldn’t be passive even with Ethan on top of him, would be a force to be reckoned with even as Ethan entered him—and it was that thought, more than anything else, the idea of being inside Will, being joined to him, knowing him like perhaps no one had ever known him, that made Ethan finally come with a muffled shout, making a mess of his shirt and his bed.

He lay there for a few moments, breathing heavily, stroking himself slowly through the aftermath. His brain felt numb, like it had blacked out for a moment there, and dimly he realized that it was the best orgasm he’d ever had, better than anything porn – what little he had watched – or even Julia had done for him.

 _Oh shit_ , he thought heavily. _Oh shit oh shit oh shit_.

* * *

Ethan was usually great at keeping secrets, but he found himself uncharacteristically, _profoundly_ unable to keep this one to himself. He just couldn’t; he felt like he would explode with the heat of it, or else be crushed under the weight of knowing, finally, what he wanted, and also being terrified that he wasn’t ever going to get it. He just had to tell someone, to have another living soul share this with him, because otherwise he would either do something incredibly stupid, or resign himself to living out the rest of his days jerking off to thoughts of Will but doing nothing more about it.

So he told his friends. He left out the part about jerking off, and the part about his best orgasm to date, and he definitely did not talk about wanting to touch Will, to kiss him and be inside him, to make him moan his name under him. But from the knowing glint in Luther’s eyes it seemed like his best friend understood it all anyway – after all, they were both teenage boys, and they understood each other better than any girl ever could.

“I don’t get it,” Zhen said when he was done admitting his feelings for Will to them. “Why can’t you just go up to him and tell him all of what you’ve just told us?”

“Yeah,” agreed Declan. “I mean.” He made a face. “If you’re going to talk about wanting to be with someone, go talk about it with the relevant person, not us.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Ethan told them, rolling his eyes. “We can’t all be like the two of you, okay, we can’t all just decide ‘Oh, I’ll kiss him today because I want to’.”

“Why not?” spoke up Jane, and Ethan turned a look of utter betrayal on her.

“ _Toi aussi,_ Jane?” he hissed.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” she said, waving him off airily. “Look, you like him, go talk to him. Tell him that. If he likes you back, great. If he doesn’t, well, you’ll get over it.”

“I’m starting to think you should get those words tattooed on your forehead,” snapped Ethan, who was quite sick of being told to get over it all the time, whatever _it_ happened to be at that moment.

“Bitch, I might,” Jane said serenely, and then lay back against Hanaway’s chest, wrapping his arms around herself. “Don’t challenge me, Ethan, you’ll lose. Horribly.”

Luther’s voice was quiet and contemplative when he asked, “You really like this boy, don’t you?”

Ethan opened his mouth, but closed it when he realized he didn’t know what to say. So instead he settled for a nod, trying to look as sincere as he felt about the matter.

Luther hummed thoughtfully. “And you think he might feel the same way?”

Ethan shrugged. “I honestly have no idea,” he said, somewhat helplessly.

“Figure it out, then,” Hanaway said, pausing in making out with Jane. “And if you like what you find, then I say go for it, man. What’ve you got to lose?”

 _Him_ , thought Ethan, but didn’t say it. “You’re right,” he said, trying to sound determined. “Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

“That’s my man,” said Declan with approval, but Luther remained silent and deep in thought.

* * *

They didn’t talk about it after that. Ethan kept up his friendship with Will, and tried to maintain normalcy when he talked to him, which was an impressive feat considering he’d made jerking off to Will almost routine now. He just couldn’t help himself – every time Will touched him in a friendly gesture he wanted more; every time Will spoke he wanted to kiss him; every time Will moved he wanted to pin him to the nearest wall with his body and find out if he could drive Will as crazy as Will drove him.

The pent up frustration over his situation, as well as all of the _feelings_ , were beginning to drive him slowly insane, and he found that even jerking off wasn’t enough to take the edge off anymore. It made sense, since he was doing it now more than he’d ever done in his life, even during puberty, and at some point it was going to become tired and unfulfilling. So he turned his attention back to his old vices, to racing with Zhen, and going biking with Jane, sometimes playfully tussling with Declan or just hanging out in old, abandoned buildings with Luther. Occasionally he would go a bit further and do something truly insane, like climbing up the side of the local Walmart just because he fucking could, or successfully egging Mr. Stine’s house without getting caught because the douchebag had given him a C-minus on a test he’d been so sure he’d done well on.

Thanks to Will, his Chemistry grade had improved significantly, which was both a blessing and a curse because it meant that Will would soon not need to tutor him any longer, but also that Ethan didn’t want him to stop even though every single moment in his presence drove Ethan up the fucking wall with pent up want and lust. It was testament to his self-restraint that Will never smelled a rat, even though sometimes, Ethan felt like Will would know the minute he looked at him, because Will could read him, and because sometimes it felt like his feelings were written on his face for the world to see.

But if Will knew, he never let on, and their relationship remained normal and friendly, and for that Ethan was infinitely grateful.

* * *

One Friday in May, Ethan scored an A-plus on his Chemistry test, and Will whooped delightedly when he told him, and even gave Ethan a brief hug that had every single inch of his skin tingling where Will had touched him. They got ice cream to celebrate, and then they hung out in the park, and Ethan kept telling himself that it wasn’t a date even though it felt a lot like it was, and if his heart ached, well, no one had to know.

He did come to one conclusion, though – he was going to tell Will how he felt the following Monday. For better or for worse, he was going to do it.

* * *

Sunday morning he woke to the sound of his phone ringing. _Jane_ , said caller ID, and immediately there was a sick feeling in his gut, because Jane was not an early riser, and she didn’t believe in calling people at unreasonable times of the day.

He picked up, noting the time – 5:30 AM – and said, “Hey, Jane, what’s up? Everything okay?”

There was silence for a moment, and then, to Ethan’s alarm, sobbing. Crying like he had never heard anyone cry before, least of all Jane of all people, strong, unbeatable Jane. It sounded like she’d lost her heart somewhere.

“Jane, hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, sitting up in bed, fighting to keep the panic from his voice. “What’s happened? Jane, _what happened_?”

There was one more broken sob, and then someone else took the phone from Jane and said, “Ethan?”

“Benji?” he said, recognizing the voice. “Benji, what the hell is happening?”

“Ethan, it’s Hanaway,” Benji told him, sounding ragged, shell-shocked. Even his voice sounded pale. “He’s—”

“He’s what, Benji?” demanded Ethan, feeling his stomach drop out under him. “ _What happened, Benji_?”

“There was a hit and run,” Benji answered, talking rapidly, like he was trying to force the words out and hoping they’d taste less bitter if he spoke them faster. “Ethan, Hanaway didn’t make it.”

“What?” It didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel like it was something that should even happen in a universe that was just and fair. Hanaway couldn’t be dead, not Trevor.

“We were coming home from a party,” Benji was saying, sounding haggard, “and there was this drunk woman, I didn’t really see her, she just, she just T-boned us, and it was Trevor’s side of the car, and shit, fuck, Ethan, he’s _dead_!”

Ethan couldn’t take it anymore; he hung up and threw the phone aside like it was responsible for all of this. Mind reeling, he clutched his hair in his hands and took deep breaths, trying to steady himself, but all his brain wanted to think was _not Trevor not Trevor not Trevor_ like a mantra, like if he thought it enough Hanaway would come back, Hanaway with the laugh lines around his eyes and always a smile and a joke for them, Hanaway who could make Jane smile and laugh too, who kissed her like she was the most precious thing in the word, who always had his arm around her because he said he felt incomplete otherwise.

Ethan bolted out of bed and threw up in the bathroom, until his stomach was empty and he was retching, nothing coming up but bile.

Hanaway was gone.

* * *

The day of his funeral was bright and sunny and Ethan immediately hated it, because if Hanaway was gone then the universe had no right going on like everything was okay. It was supposed to be cold and gray, not – not so summery and bright. He thought of how Trevor had made plans with Jane to go to the beach in the summer, because he’d promised to teach her how to surf. Ethan focused on not throwing up.

Jane didn’t show up, even though the rest of them did, even Will and Benji. Ethan didn’t cry – he’d exhausted all of his tears and all of his rage in the week before, screaming and punching and hitting things until his mother found him sobbing on his bedroom floor. And that wasn’t even a fraction of what Jane must have felt, must still be feeling, because while they had all loved Hanaway, Jane had _loved_ him.

Zhen drove Declan and Luther home afterwards, and Benji went with Will, who’d stayed to make sure Ethan was okay, and normally that gesture would have had Ethan in ecstasy, because it meant Will cared, but right now he could only stand still as Will squeezed his shoulder and gave him a short, tight hug. “I’m so sorry,” he’d said quietly, and even though Ethan had hated the words from everyone else, from Will they felt real.

Without thinking about it he’d reached out and taken Will’s hand, and Will had let him. They’d stood there, side by side, watching as Hanaway’s mother leaned on his father for support, as Declan wrapped his arms around Zhen, and then Ethan said, “I’m sorry, I have to go. I need to find Jane. I need to see if she’s okay.”

Will nodded, and let go of his hand, and said, “Call me if you need anything.”

Ethan nodded, numb, his heart a lead weight in his chest. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Will smiled, a soft, sad shadow of his usual bright one, and reached out to squeeze his hand comfortingly before walking away.

* * *

Ethan found Jane at the old train station, seated with her back against the front wheel of her car, arms wrapped around herself as if she was warding off the cold, even though it was almost summer now. “Hey,” he said quietly, sitting down next to her.

She didn’t reply, just quietly leaned against him, rested her head on his shoulder, and cried. He did the best he could, wrapping his arms around her and holding her, until her tears had run out and she was hiccupping into his shirt, letting out a dry sob every now and then.

They stayed like that until the sun went down, and then Ethan took her home. It felt like he’d buried a part of himself, along with Hanaway. It also felt horribly like he’d buried Jane along with Hanaway, too.

* * *

Uncle Don found him in his room, after the funeral, just lying on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. “Hey, kid,” he said softly, closing the door behind himself as he entered and sitting down on the bed. “You all right?”

Ethan hummed noncommittally. “I don’t know,” he said out loud, sitting up so he could face his uncle. “It just doesn’t feel real. I keep thinking he’s going to text me some stupid joke, or call me about Jane, or ask me about good date spots to take her, and I just—” There was a lump in his throat and his uncle looked heartbroken for him, and that more than anything brought forward tears in Ethan’s eyes again. “I just can’t believe he’s gone,” he completed, his voice cracking.

His uncle said, “Oh, _Ethan_ ,” and wrapped his arms around him, and held him close like he hadn’t in a long time – hadn’t needed to – and he let Ethan cry into his shoulder until all his tears were spent and he had nothing more within himself to let out.

* * *

Julia came up to him in school, right before first period English, and she put her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “I’m so sorry,” she said, the corners of her mouth pulling down. “I know you were friends with him, and honestly it’s so horrible, I’m so sorry.”

He let her hug him, knowing she only had good intentions, and he also accepted her kiss to the cheek, but inside, he suddenly felt like he had to get away, like he had to leave this place because if he saw one more sympathetic or pitying look, if he heard one more whisper as he passed by, he would lose his mind, he was sure of it. He just couldn’t take it, couldn’t take all these people and their words, because they couldn’t understand what it was like, they hadn’t known Hanaway and they wouldn’t ever know how gray the world seemed without him.

So when she left to go to class, Ethan turned around and walked back out of school, instead of going to English. He knew Benji had seen him go, but the kid didn’t say anything or try to stop him, and for that Ethan was grateful. He liked Benji, and he didn’t want to be in a fight with him right now, not when he felt like he needed to jump out of his own skin or just be someone else for a change, just leave himself behind.

He considered going to the old train station but decided against it – the place was filled to the brim with memories of Trevor, and it was still too raw, he just couldn’t be there right now, he just couldn’t. So he found himself making his way to the park, walking so fast he was almost running, even though he didn’t know what he would find there, and he didn’t know what he would achieve by going there anyway, just that he hoped it would be some kind of peace and quiet, some silence inside his head.

The park was abandoned when he got there, since most of its usual occupants were at school. There was just an old man seated on a bench, feeding the pigeons, and a lady walking her dog, occasionally stopping to say hi and chat with the old man. Not paying them much attention, Ethan made his way past them and to where the skate park was, and sat down on the bench he’d shared with Will, oh so long ago in December, when Hanaway had been alive.

It was a pleasant day, the sky blue and dotted with fluffy clouds, the sun shining warmly through the trees. It was the kind of day where, normally, Zhen would have picked them all up in her car and they’d have gone to hang out somewhere, or he would have called Will to come have ice cream with him. It wasn’t at all the kind of day for sitting alone in the park, wondering if feeling empty inside meant that you were a bad person because you could no longer summon the energy required to mourn your friend.

It still didn’t feel real, sometimes, especially when they all waited for Hanaway to drop in on group conversations but his emoji-laden texts never came; and it would feel so strange when they would no longer have to pick him up when they went out, or wait for him in class, or go over to his place after school, and he wouldn’t take Jane out anymore, Jane, oh God, Jane, _Jane_.

“Hey,” came a soft, hesitant voice, jolting him out of his thoughts, and Ethan looked up to find Will standing there, smiling uncertainly. “Can I sit?”

“Sure,” said Ethan, making space. “What are you doing here?”

“Benji texted me,” Will informed him. “Said he saw you leaving school, and he was a bit concerned. Figured I’d come see you.”

“How did you find me?” asked Ethan, not missing how Will sat close enough that there was only an inch of space between them, and it would be so easy to close the distance if only Ethan could bring himself to.

“You weren’t at the train station, so I thought you’d be here,” replied Will. “So- what’s up? You all right?”

Ethan shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know, I just don’t fucking know. I mean, it’s been a few days and it still doesn’t feel like it happened, you know? The thing with – with Trevor.” Even now he couldn’t bring himself to say _car crash._ “I keep thinking he’s going to text me, or call me, or I’m gonna see him in the hallways at school—” He stopped, unable to go on.

Will inhaled sharply. “I didn’t know him that well, but I don’t think he’d want you to mope like this, you know.”

“Well, who the hell knows what he’d want me to do?” muttered Ethan bitterly. “Can’t exactly ask him, can we? And you know what the worst part is?” he added. “That whatever I’m feeling, the grief and the anger and all of it – it’s so much worse for Jane. I don’t even know how she’s going to hold up. I don’t know what I’ll do if she starts smoking again, or – or – or fucking anything, really, I just don’t _know_.”

“I’m not going to tell you it’ll be okay, that she’ll be fine,” Will said after a contemplative pause. “Honestly, that’s bullshit, and I’d be lying if I said it, and I know from personal experience it doesn’t help at all. But you know what? Eventually it’s going to hurt less. One day you’re going to wake up and the ache of it won’t be the first thing on your mind. I can’t tell you when that day’s going to happen, but I _can_ tell you that it will happen. Trust me on this.”

“How do you know?” Ethan found himself whispering. “Did you lose someone?”

Will nodded, staring at a tree some yards away instead of looking at Ethan. “Yeah. My dad. I was eight.”

“I’m sorry,” Ethan said, his heart breaking a little at the thought of a young Will, dealing with loss so early on in life. “What happened?”

“He killed himself,” Will replied, his tone colorless as he continued avoiding looking at Ethan. “Ate a bullet while I was at school and Mom was at work. Did it in their bedroom. I was the one who found him.”

His face, Ethan saw, was as pale as his voice, and his hands were shaking where they were placed on his knees. Without really thinking about it, Ethan reached out and took his hand, clutching it tightly in an effort to stop the trembling. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “That’s so fucked up. I’m so sorry.”

Will hand twitched a bit under Ethan’s, but he didn’t pull away. “Yeah. It is, and I still don’t know why the fuck he did it. Anyway, that’s in the past now, and yeah, it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss him, though,” he added. “Just because you don’t spend all of your days mourning and crying doesn’t mean you don’t miss them anymore. It just means you don’t stop living because they did.”

Ethan thought over that for a moment. “But the thing is,” he said eventually, “before it stops hurting, how do you deal? What do you do?”

“You take it one day at a time,” Will replied. “It hurts a lot in the beginning, but you take the punches as they come, and one day it hurts a little less. And then it hurts a little bit lesser each day, and then one day you wake up, and you can think about them with a smile instead of tears.” His hand twitched in Ethan’s again, but then moved to intertwine their fingers, like they weren’t doing this for the first time, like this was the most natural thing in the world, and Ethan’s heart leaped in his throat.

“One day at a time,” Ethan repeated. “Yeah. I think I can do that.”

Will finally turned to look at him, and there was a small smile on his face. “Good,” he said softly. “I don’t like it when you’re upset, it feels really _wrong_.”

Ethan smiled back. “Yeah? That so?”

Will nodded. “Yeah.”

And then they were kissing, and it felt like everything Ethan had dreamed of and more, and Will’s lips were soft and warm under his, and it felt like they’d been made just for this, to fit perfectly against Ethan’s own mouth. One of Will’s hands found its way into Ethan’s hair, and his touch was exquisite, and it felt like the perfect answer to everything Ethan had ever craved.

He didn’t realize that his own hand had slipped under Will’s shirt to rest in the warmth of his lower back, not until they broke apart for air, their foreheads still touching. Will’s breath fanned hot over Ethan’s face, and he smiled. “Got a crush on me, Brandt?”

“Guess I do, Hunt,” Will replied, one corner of his mouth quirking in an answering smile. “Guess you got a crush on me too, it looks like.”

“Guess you’re right,” Ethan said, and kissed him again.

* * *

They sat there on the bench near the skate park for a long time, and by the time they thought to leave it was well into fourth period at school. “No point in going back now,” Ethan said, and Will agreed, and so they decided to have ice cream and find some other place to hang out.

Some of the tension in Ethan’s chest eased when Will reached out to take his hand as they walked, and he reciprocated by intertwining their fingers, and neither of them made it any bigger of a deal than it had to be. Ethan found he liked it, liked how it was so completely natural, the logical next step in their friendship. It just made sense, on a deep instinctual level, and Ethan had never been one to ignore his instincts.

Afternoon found them in Ethan’s room, lying side by side on his bed and lazily making out, trading slow kisses back and forth like they were still trying to know each other. His mother and uncle were still at work, and they wouldn’t be home for another few hours, so they had all the privacy they needed.

“You’re beautiful,” Ethan told Will in between kisses, their fingers threaded together, Will stretched out by his side like this was where he belonged. And Will flushed pink and laughed, and kissed Ethan, and for the first time in a long time, Ethan felt like maybe things would be okay, maybe he would be fine after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I would really, really love feedback on this, because I absolutely loved writing it, and I want to know if it's as good as I hope it is. Your feedback is incredibly valuable to me, it honestly makes my week <3
> 
> If anybody is interesting in joining a group chat on Telegram where we can all sob about these idiots and just have fun, click [here](https://telegram.me/joinchat/BAK4QgbzvTjSS0NSFhmisw). There is also the added bonus of being able to curse at me in person.
> 
> Love,  
> Remy x


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